


the weather can make or break your day

by theformerone



Series: tumblr prompts [7]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Mild Transphobia, Trans Tobirama, madara's dad died so he's being a huge dick because he doesn't know how to cope, tobirama is having nONE of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 18:05:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14550330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theformerone/pseuds/theformerone
Summary: For prompt no 6. “But that’s against the rules. I thought you were one to actually follow those.”Madara is bad at coping with his feelings. And also bad at apologizing. Tobirama is good at everything else.





	the weather can make or break your day

Madara has been watching Hashirama’s annoying little brother seethe in the seat in front of him for the past half hour. It’s oddly endearing. 

They’re the only two in detention today, and that’s because they’re the only two that had gotten in any trouble.

“Fighting is expressly forbidden on the premises,” Principal Ashina had said, looking at them with very disappointed, very fatherly eyes. 

Madara had been caught between the urge to sneer and the vague guilt that ate a little at his stomach. He didn’t like it when people tried to parent him. His dad had been dead four months, and he was doing fine, he didn’t need everyone to feign concern, to keep showing up at his house with casseroles, asking about how Izuna was doing, and when would he be released from the hospital?

Madara had started biking everywhere after the car accident. He doesn’t like being in cars anymore. 

And yeah, maybe he isn’t exactly as ‘okay’ as everyone around him is trying to make sure he is. He and Hashirama have been friends since they were like, two, for fuck’s sake. Madara has known Tobirama literally since he was born. 

And yeah, the brat has always gotten on his nerves, but sniping at each other is what they’ve always done. Madara was Hashirama’s best friend, and Tobirama was Hashirama’s little brother. The law of the universe literally demanded that they either hated each other’s guts, or pretended to. 

So they pretended to. And now everything was fucked up six ways from Sunday because Madara is an idiot who doesn’t know how to read a signal. 

He’s been scraping with the Senju brothers since they all became friends, when Hashirama and Madara were two. They started taking Tae Kwon Do classes when they were old enough to stand. 

They grew up together, going to tournaments, sparring, jostling, congratulating, and coming home afterwards. They roughhouse even when they aren’t in the ring. It’s how well they know each other, how they’re affectionate. So socking Tobirama in the shoulder isn’t something that Madara’s never done before. 

But Tobirama had said, “Fuck off, I’m not in the mood.”

And Madara had said, “What crawled in your mouth and died this morning?”

And Tobirama had sneered at him, had looked at Madara like he was gum on the bottom of his shoe. 

“You know it’s physically possible to say hello to someone without hitting them?”

“Yeah,” Madara had said, grinning, “but you’re not a person.”

Tobirama stuck his phone in his pocket, and hiked his backpack up on his shoulder. 

“I’ll see you in Chemistry,” he said to his cousin Touka, moving to leave. 

Madara had slid to the side, blocking the hallway with his body. 

“Oh come on, don’t be such a brat. I was kidding. Don’t you know how to take a joke?”

“No,” Tobirama said, eyes narrowed. “I’m just looking at one.” 

“What the fuck is your problem today?” 

And then Madara said the stupid thing. The wrong thing. The ‘why in the fresh hell would you ever say that’ thing. Because - Well, he wasn’t sure why he did it. 

“You got your period?”

Tobirama’s eyes widened. Touka barely had time to call Madara an asshole before Tobirama was swinging. 

And now, here they are. Detention. 

Madara hadn’t figured out yet, how to apologize. He knew, he had always known that Tobirama had been sensitive about that kind of thing. It was the reason why his parents had separated, why his younger brothers lived with their father, while Tobirama and Hashirama still lived with their mom. 

And Madara had just flung it in his face like it was a joke. Like it was nothing. 

He feels like an asshole. And he should. Which sucks all the more. He’s tried opening his mouth, tried to get an apology out, but none of the words that ever came to mind seemed right. Madara isn’t really very good at apologizing. He never has been. He was like his dad that way. 

They sit their for hours in silence. Madara has literally memorized the schedule their supervising teacher takes her smoke breaks on. And he decides that as soon as she leaves this time, he’s going to say something. Anything, really. 

When the clock strikes 4:04, the teacher gets up, and rustles through her purse for her lighter and her pack of smokes. She doesn’t bother telling the two of them not to talk; they’ve been in a stony silence ever since they arrived two hours ago when school let out. 

Madara sits up and holds onto the wooden edge of his desk, searching for words that won’t make him sound like more of a dick than the one he already is. 

Tobirama turns around, and beats him to the punch. 

He’s got a fleck of tried blood on his lip from where Madara hit him earlier, but Madara is pretty sure he’s got a bruise on the solar plexus from where Tobirama jammed his elbow. 

“We’re leaving.”

He doesn’t wait for Madara to answer. He reaches down, and unzips his backpack before clearing his desk of his notebooks and pencils. 

Madara closes his mouth. Then opens it again. 

“But that’s against the rules,” he says, spluttering to find something reasonable to say. “I thought you were one to actually follow those.”

Tobirama looks back at him like he’s an idiot. Madara is probably an idiot. 

“You’ve been all kinds of annoying since the accident,” he says flatly. “I get that.”

That shuts Madara up right away. Part of him wants to lash out again, wants to throw another punch because maybe that’ll make this whole _moment_ end faster.

“You’re messed up about your dad, and you’re worried about your brother,” Tobirama says. “Believe me, if anyone gets that, it’s me.”

Madara closes his mouth again. He digs his fingernails into the wood of his desk, doubly shamed. 

“You can be as messed up as you want about it. That’s fair, whatever. But don’t you ever,” Tobirama says, voice going hard and mean, “fucking _ever_ make that my problem again.”

He stands up and walks around his desk, before picking up Madara’s backpack and dropping it on his lap. 

“Now let’s go.”

Madara grabs his bag and stands. Tobirama nods at him, before reaching across him, and opening the window. The school is only one one level, so the drop is only like, six inches. Maybe less. 

He looks from the window back to Tobirama, whose red eyes are waiting for - for Madara doesn’t know what. 

He puts his backpack on, and as he does, it dawns on him. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Tobirama raises an eyebrow. 

“Wow,” he says. “That looked like it hurt.”

Madara blinks. 

“Are you…,” he starts, unsure, “Are you going to accept my apology?”  

Tobirama shrugs, and waves a hand at the window. 

“Bike me to Valentino’s and buy me a slice, and we’ll talk about it.”

Madara feels like he’s just been sucker punched. Again. 

“What?” 

“Hey!” 

They both turn over their shoulders, where the teacher has returned. Madara curses, and throws himself out of the window. Tobirama isn’t that far behind, slapping Madara on the back and cursing at him to, “ _Run_ , dumbass, run!”

They make it to the bike racks in record time, Tobirama still snapping at him to hurry up. Madara hops on, and Tobirama gets up onto the pegs, and then they’re gunning it down the sidewalk and away from the school. 

In the blazing afternoon light, he can just feel Tobirama’s stomach against his back, breathing hard with adrenaline. And then he’s cackling, his hands on Madara’s shoulders as he pedals away. The sound is infectious. 

They get to Valentino’s in under ten minutes. A new record. It’s the first time Madara’s laughed since his dad died. 


End file.
